


agent watson, meet agent holmes

by Aqua_Artist (orphan_account)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Multi, crossover fic where john and sherlock are overwatch agents, very very gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 02:38:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7959082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Aqua_Artist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John Watson joined Overwatch, he expected fighting alongside the best heroes in the world. He expected taking down dangerous enemies. He expected battles that would change the world.<br/>He wasn't expecting Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. at first sight

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to the wonderful snowsheba for being my beta and a wonderful person!! enjoy

John Watson wasn’t quite sure what he’d expected when he agreed to join the new Overwatch. But after all of the paperwork and interviews and combat simulations, he hadn’t been expecting this.

“-using the salt plate! And then later I heard Widowmaker say salt is a spice! Well, it isn’t actually, but that’s not the point! She agreed with me - So now she and Reaper are fighting, because he has to be edgy, doesn’t he! And anyways, who took the salt plate in the first place?”

No, he definitely hadn’t.

Ahead of him sat Tracer - Lena Oxton, he reminded himself. He couldn’t help but be familiar with her agent name. He grew up with the original Overwatch - and she’s talking animatedly, leaning back and waving her hands around in various gestures. Two other agents are listening to her tale. As he approaches, briefcase tucked under his left arm and jumper itching slightly from the Mediterranean heat, he recognizes them as McCree and Pharah.

There they are. The heroes of Overwatch.

Despite everything that’s happened since their glory days, he can’t help but be astounded to see them.

“-John!” Tracer exclaims, eyes flickering over, then she turns and waves, pushing off the table and blink-blink-blinking over to him.

He blinks back, before he remembers himself.

“Hello. Yes, I’m John Watson.”

“Great to meet you!” She grins, tilts her head. “I’ve been so excited for you to arrive! Y’know I heard there are some other new recruits too and one of them’s D. Va and I can’t wait to meet her!”

“That’s - nice.” Although he prides himself on his ability to keep up in combat, he finds it hard to follow her. He’s still a bit in awe of how she time-travelled oh-so-casually to greet him.

“Yeah, it is!” She turns her head and brings a hand to her face. “Oi! Cowboy! Fareeha! Get over here!”

The cowboy - McCree - rolls over like a lightning-flash tumbleweed, sticking the landing and grinning from underneath the raised brim of his hat.

“Well, howdy.” He drawls out the word, looking John over, before nodding in approval. “Always good to have another healer on the team, heaven knows Lena here needs it.” She elbows him in response, and he grimaces in fake pain, bending over and cursing her. Tracer only giggles in response.

John wonders how they are the most competent heroes in the world.

Then Pharah - Fareeha, her real name - strides over, and they both straighten up.

“Do not pretend you do not require the same assistance, you reckless cowboy,” and all three of them burst into laughter.

So much for that.

“When is the other agent supposed to arrive?” John asks, for sake of conversation. He feels a little stilted, realizing these iconic heroes are real, ridiculous, people.

“I dunno,” Lena says. “I think they’re arriving sometime this week, though. Anyways-” her face lights up with remembrance - “you’d agree salt is a spice, right?”

“N-no, it is not,” he says, and Jesse nods in agreement while Lena and Fareeha are outraged, and just like that he’s an agent of Overwatch.

 

\---

 

His first mission was decidedly not going as well as he would like.

“Dammit, - Tracer!” he shouts, rounding the payload and firing a biotic bullet into her - it starts healing her far-too-numerous injuries - and he’s calculating recalculating, fires straight into Pharah as she touches down, her fuel levels low. Nameless numerous Talon agents swarm the payload - he can’t think about what’s happening to them, focuses on keeping his agents alive, but they’re losing ground. He grits his teeth - he’s new, but he can still order retreat if he needs to, and he will. No mission is worth these heroes’ lives.

McCree combat-rolls - John aims, fires into him, but he’s blocked by a Talon agent - damn! - who McCree doesn’t notice, too focused on providing a distraction for Pharah.

“McCree-!” he shouts, but he can’t be heard over the bullets of the battle. The Talon raises her weapon, prepares to fire and there’s nothing he can do, blankly healing Pharah more as he screams into his comm, but it does no good, he can’t-

She drops to the ground. Shot through the head, John immediately recognizes.

- _ Who? _

-

In the mission report (a miraculous success, somehow) John mentions the unnamed sniper. Winston adjusts his glasses, says nothing other than his gratitude and we should continue to watch out for them, and that is all.

John can’t help but think that that sniper was the one who really saved McCree’s life that day.

 

\---

 

“Almost there, luvs!” Tracer shouts gleefully, her ship taking a sharp drop. John flinched - luckily he at least knew it was coming this time. He was prepared this time, ready - he couldn’t help but feel as though he had failed them on the last mission. He hadn’t protected everyone, and that was his job. Wasn’t it?

Well, apparently someone else had decided it was their job, too. He was grateful for that, yes, but he wouldn’t need their help this time. He was ready.

(What if they were there again?)

(No, that thought was not to be considered. Last time they had been in Numbani, and this time they were in Egypt.)

“Touched down!” she announces, and moments later has blinked into the cabin, where McCree, Pharah, and John were waiting. John checks his gun and ammo, stands, tries to glare into the blinding sun as the door opens. Tracer has her goggles; McCree has his hat; Pharah has her goggles. He wonders how he would look with sunglasses.

Then it’s open, and they’re off - running, sprinting, blinking, soaring towards the temple - John’s grateful that he can keep up at all, grateful that his position requires him to stay behind the group. The first wave of Talon agents - John fires into his agents, aim clear and steady, refusing to let any of them get hurt. Every now and then a Talon agent discovers him, from behind the lines - they’re quickly dispatched by Pharah. John doesn’t think about it.

Slowly, they creep towards the temple - Talon’s HQ in Egypt, he was briefed, not that it matters, just an objective to fulfill - advancing towards the gates. McCree’s in the lead, again, but John’s got his eye on him. The Talon agents are dwindling - perhaps they’ve taken an advantage in this fight. Well, that would be something.

“I need healing,” Pharah announces, and John looks up, heals her - how did she get hit? she’s touched down on the shadow of a rooftop - and then - 

\- the reverberating echo of a small crack in stone -

\- the moment of the weightless fall -

\- the crash as it hits the ground-

\- the great statue of Anubis has fallen, and they’re blocked. It must have been sniped - except - no - McCree was ahead, he’s trapped, again, and John prepares to flank it, because he is not going to leave him trapped, and clearly everyone else has the same idea, except he’s the only  _ normal human _ so he’s going to be last but McCree needs him!

“McCree!” he yells, speeding round the column, spotting red and aim-firing immediately. He breathes a sigh of relief - they’re almost there - then!

_ “Tracer!” _

“What are you doing, Tracer?” Pharah asks, with great seriousness, and something is definitely going wrong, where is she?

“It’s Widowmaker!” she answers, and just the name is enough to make both Pharah and McCree pause, John can tell.

“Sniper,” McCree translates, and John is grateful but - no, it can’t be, his sniper had helped them!

They’re left to defend for themselves, the three of them, so John puts his confusion aside. Soon Tracer’s back, with a cheery “Widowmaker taken care of!”, and they make a final push, John behind them. He has their backs, and they’re through the gate. The base is surprisingly empty, and John makes note of that, staying on edge. They make their way towards the center of the room, careful.  
“Objective secured,” Pharah reports, and they can relax. They can, but John doesn’t. Something isn’t right. They put up that much of a fight, and now they’re not defending their base?

The gate shuts.

They’re trapped.

Of course.

“It’s a trap!” Tracer shouts, and shouting the obvious doesn’t help.

“Tracer, calm down, we’ll find a way out of this.”

McCree nods, begins tracing the perimeter. Pharah flies up to the ceiling - sure enough, John’s suspicions are confirmed. They’re trapped in a glorified box. None of their weapons can do enough damage. But perhaps if there was a control box? Something had to have controlled the gate.

“Pharah, do you see anything out of place?”

“Negative. Everything appears to be staged.”

Well, great. John braces himself for their being surrounded.

“Tracer, Pharah, to the left of the door. McCree, with me,” John orders, and they’re off to either side of the gate, ready for the inevitable second battle.

They reload, ready their weapons. Breathe.

A single shot shakes the base, and the gate opens, painfully slowly.

John’s ready.

They flash to the entrance, ready to surprise the Talon agents, because they haven’t rushed right in.

A single figure stands in the center of the gate. A silhouette; the light glows around them.

“Pardon me for imposing myself, but it did appear that you were in need of assistance.”

John lowers his weapon, instinctively sensing who they are. The others follow him.

“You’re... him.”

“Sherlock Holmes.”

He steps forward, and John echoes the movement, getting to look at the sniper - Sherlock - for the first time. He’s a striking figure, curls and coat billowing behind him, face sharply cut, eyes with a determined glint.

“I’m John-”

“Watson,” Sherlock finishes, and John is too busy being impressed to be annoyed. “Fareeha Amari, Lena Oxton, Jesse McCree.” He nods to each of them in turn. “I do believe Overwatch is in need of a sniper, is it not?”

“...Yes,” John responds, before any of the others can say otherwise.

“Exactly as I deduced,” and he  _ smirks _ , then turns with a swirl of his coat. “Come along, your ship is still over this way, unless you’ve forgotten.”

John follows instantly - he doesn’t even notice the others hesitate for a moment. Perhaps he’s a bit too distracted by the sudden existence of Sherlock Holmes.

 

\---

 

mccree[1:13]: anyone else find it a little weird that winston just immediately accepted mystery man into overwatch??

tracer[1:13]: i’m sure he had a good reason too besides don’t you think he’s cool!! i think he’s cool!!

mccree[1:14]: you think all snipers are cool

Tracer[1:15]: :O hey!!!! jesse!!!!

mccree[1:15]: why are you this way. we all know exactly why you went to go ‘take care’ of widowmaker

pharah[1:16]: Do not engage with the enemy on the battlefield. It is a violation of protocol.

tracer[1:17]: :(

tracer[1:18]: off of the battlefield?

pharah[1:18]: …

pharah[1:18]: ... Fine.

tracer[1:18]: :D!!!!

mccree[1:18]: really fareeha?

mccree[1:18]: also are we not going to talk about the new kid and mr. fancy name??

tracer[1:19]: oh you saw it too!! :D yay!! i was worried it was just me

pharah[1:19]: That would be impossible. They were extremely obviously flirting.

mccree[1:19]: looks like this overwatch is going to be exactly the same as the first one

pharah[1:19]: Agreed.

tracer[1:20]: looks like it!! :D

tracer[1:20]: anyways i have popcorn in the kitchen if anyone wants some!!!!

pharah[1:21]: It is one in the morning…

pharah[1:21]:.... How much popcorn have you made?

Mccree[1:21]: i’m on my way


	2. training and beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They attempt to train. Sherlock is a showoff. John is (somewhat) impressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note - at some points, the story is from Sherlock's perspective, and from other's it's from John's. Changes are always marked with a triple dash.  
> Thanks for reading!

They had fallen asleep.

Sherlock Holmes didn’t need to have his powers of deduction to recognize that the three heroes of Overwatch had fallen asleep after a poorly-timed snack. Honestly, they needed him here, he thought, as he picked up the empty bowl and turned off the TV, blaring some program about their recent battle in Egypt. Why did they need to watch that? They had been there.

The meeting with Winston had gone well - for once his brother had been useful - and he was now an official agent of Overwatch. It was as easy as that. Of course, he’d been asked why he wanted to join. And, of course, he hadn’t given the truthful answer. Not that Winston could tell.

Well, it had been somewhat truthful. He did want to protect someone.

Sherlock left the common room, somewhat disappointed at having not met again one John Watson.

 

\---

 

The seven agents of Overwatch made their way to the new training area; John Watson tried to catch Sherlock’s eye, but he did not meet it, instead cataloguing the new space he was in. John frowned, wishing that Sherlock wasn’t at the back of the group so that it wouldn’t be so awkward if he dropped back to talk to him. Ah, well. They were going to be training as a group today, so it didn’t matter too much if he wasn’t with the group right now, John told himself. He barely noticed when they arrived, too lost in thought.

“Welcome,” Tracer announced, with her usual flourish, “to the battle arena!” She flickered around it, adjusting a sensor in the back so it shined just so, and then back. “Pretty cool, right? I just finished setting it up yesterday!”

“Tracer,” McCree groans, drinking from an oversized coffee mug, “stop being energetic.”

“Aw,” she pouts, “you’re still not a morning person?”

“No,” he declares, and Tracer giggles, about to tease him more when Mercy interrupts. She’s another doctor, John remembers; he’s only met her once before, after he first arrived. He respects her. There’s something about the way she carries herself that forces you to.

“Today we will be participating in training exercises with the focus on fighting as a group. Therefore, for the sake of the exercise, we will battling against training bots. Fareeha, McCree, please take care to not...cause unnecessary explosions. These were expensive, after all.”

They’re silent for a moment. Winston adjusts his glasses. Tracer giggles, with a quick apology.

“Well, then, we’re going to start with accuracy exercises. It is important for us to practice this, as we may be required to take on each other’s roles during a battle. The first training regiment will involve-”

“Mercy, come on, it’s just us. You can drop all the fancy speech!” Tracer says, exaggerating her accent for the last few words.

“...Go shoot the robots,” Mercy says, starting the program.

“Yeeeeeeeees!” Tracer shouts in joy, and she’s off immediately as the training robots activate, a resigned McCree and Pharah not far behind. Winston and Mercy follow, and John takes off after them, holding his weapon comfortably in his hands. Tracer, Winston, Pharah, and Mercy have taken to the higher ground of the arena, so he runs after McCree, finding some bots of his own and shooting them down with a small satisfaction.

He thinks he’s doing quite well, he thinks, when a bot falls from out of the sky and nearly hits him. He looks up, trying to determine who shot it. All the agents were on the other side of the arena-

Oh, of course, he realizes, as one-two-three-four other bots are shot down. He already knew of Sherlock’s skill, but he can’t help but watch as one by one, he hits all his marks.

“All robots deactivated,” Athena announces, “in two minutes fourteen-point-four seconds. A new record has been set.”

“Impressive,” John compliments.

“Whaaaaaaaat?” Tracer exclaims.

“It is nice to have a sniper on our side again,” Winston notes.

“Preparing to reset the program,” Mercy declares.

McCree simply groans in defeat.

 

\---

 

Sherlock allows himself a smile at John’s compliment; not that anyone will see. His attempts to get John’s attention, so far, have been working exactly as he planned them.

The rest of the accuracy training passes without incident; it would be boring without John to impress. But he is here, and that makes everything infinitely more interesting.

It’s a minute through the third round, and he decides to decrease his sniping, focusing more on how the agents (his fellow agents, now) fight. They’re risk takers, or at least Tracer, McCree, and Pharah are. Overwatch will need more agents like himself and Winston to balance out their fighting skills. Winston himself is more careful, as is Mercy; that will be good in a battle, but their accuracy is not up to par. As for John…

John is amazing to watch in a fight; deadly, precise, focused, confident. It’s exactly those traits that attracted Sherlock to him in the first place. Of course the recall of Overwatch had his attention, but John was what held his interest. They’d both grown up in London during the Crisis, but there was something more than that commonality that drew him to John. 

He notices a bot behind John and snipes it - he smirks a little at the shot, it’s perfect - but he doesn’t even notice.

“Shooting to impress, eh?” Tracer asks - she’s blinked up right next to him, and he notes the flash that accompanies her sudden presence. He’ll have to remember that.

It’s only after he’s noted that that he realizes he’ll have to respond. She knows. Well, he wasn’t hiding.

“She’s done the same for you,” he shoots back, as if he wouldn’t know all about her and her love for Widowmaker. It was painful for him to watch; they wouldn’t be able to be together, with how Talon and Overwatch were fighting. So perhaps it wasn’t tactful for him to point that out.

“Yeah, but you get to be on the same side as him! Lucky,” she teases. She doesn’t appear to be all that upset, but he can tell she is. She’s built up quite a facade.

“She’s the second best sniper in the world. She could have killed you, if she wanted to.” Tracer blinks at him - caught off guard by the seemingly sudden, serious shift in conversation. Most people are; Sherlock is unbothered by that.

“So… she doesn’t want to?”

Sherlock says nothing, instead shooting another robot down. He’ll leave her to draw her own conclusions.

“Well, good luck!” she cheers, and with that her mask is back up and she’s off to join the fray again.

These people are decidedly more interesting than he’s given them credit for.

 

\---

 

“Round ten complete, time two minutes four seconds.”

That was their second fastest time of the morning! John knew perfectly well why that was; when Sherlock focused, he was incredible.

“Well done, team! It’s time for a break - I made lunch!” Winston announces, and Mercy helpfully supplies, “I cooked a backup meal.”

With that, they fall into a group, heading back to the main building. John stares around the open facility - it was built for more than them, he can feel. He knows, someday, more agents will come to join them! He can’t wait to meet them all. Will they all be as amazing as Sherlock?

...Well, probably not. But he’s still incredibly excited to be an agent of Overwatch with them, protecting the future.

He notices he’s fallen into line with Sherlock, and tries to think of something to say, other than just complimenting him, but after a long stretch of silence, he decides to go ahead with it.

“Y’know, you were pretty impressive out there,” John offers, holding his hands behind his back. Sherlock looks down at him, and John thinks he can see a smile. Maybe.

“...It is not hard for the best sniper in the world.”

“Well, that part’s obvious…” Sure, he was impressive on the field, but John was beginning to see that didn’t translate to conversational skills.

“Oi!-” Tracer interjects, and John is grateful to her interruption. “Best sniper in the world?”

“Clearly,” Sherlock smirks, and John thinks he’s teasing her? But for what, he doesn’t know.

“Widowmaker would  _ definitely _ have some something to say about this if she was here!” Tracer shoots back, and - Widowmaker?   
“What exactly would she-”

“-Hold on.  _ Widowmaker _ ?” John asks. The sniper - the Talon one - from Egypt?

“Well, yes, John, catch up,” Sherlock says, a tad annoyed at having been interrupted. It’s adorable, and if John wasn’t worried about Tracer, he might have laughed at it.

“How - do you know that, Sherlock?” John asks, genuinely curious, because he certainly didn’t pick up on that.

“Tracer left the battle for a full minute, returned with slightly smudged lipstick, and announced she had ‘taken care’ of Widowmaker.”

“Yes- but-”

“Conclusion: Tracer is in love with Widowmaker, and she doesn’t think Widowmaker can feel the same way back.”

“-OI!” Tracer shouts, “No I don’t! You can’t just come here and decide you know all about me!”

“...Sherlock…” John protests, weakly, because he hasn’t stood down for some reason. Ahead of him, all the other agents had frozen in place. This was… a bit not good.

Sherlock pauses for a second; stares down Tracer. Nobody moves.

“She does.”

That’s all he says.

Then he turns and stalks off into the emptiness of the base.

Tracer’s dead silent.

No one else dares to say anything.

Tracer blinks her eyes, still stuck in place.

“She…does?”

 

\---

 

Of course Widowmaker does, Sherlock thinks to himself in his silence.

How couldn’t she love her hero?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Sherlock...you can't behave, can you. You were just trying to impress John...  
> Thanks as always for reading! Feel free to leave a comment and I hope you have a wonderful day!

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! chapter two will be up in the next couple of days. i hope you enjoyed and i'd love to hear what you thought of it!


End file.
